On my northern Spain adventure this past June, I was surprised to see wild varieties of flowers that are commonly cultivated here in Alabama.
Hiking through a meadow on the edge of a forest, I spotted several purple foxglove plants, growing wild, alongside wild rose, larkspur, clover, and thistle. I had seen it growing wild along the Oregonian coast a few years ago, and that surprised me greatly, too. From a base of slightly wooly leaves, a substantial central stalk of up to four feet emerges, covered in down-facing bell-shaped flowers, their throats heavily spotted. The wild varieties that I have seen were all shades of purple, with the spots a darker shade. Cultivated foxgloves in gardens come in a variety of colors—white, yellow, orange.
To me, the name “foxglove” is evocative of a misty fairyland where foxes silently tread the forest floor with these flowers covering their paws. Its other common name, digitalis, is derived from the Latin word for finger, digit, and the original meaning was “thimble.” But I’ll stick with foxglove.
My first exposure to foxglove was in a pharmacology class in medical school. I learned about the medicinal properties of digitalis well before I knew what it looked like. Digitalis is obtained from the dried leaves of the foxglove, and has been, and continues to be, used to treat heart failure and certain cardiac arrhythmias. There are better drugs for these purposes now, but digitalis, manufactured and sold as Digoxin, still holds a place in treating these conditions. Herbalists knew of its properties to strengthen the heart’s contractions. It was first described in the medical literature in the sixteenth century, and has been used ever since. It underwent modern FDA testing in the 1990s to ensure that it was indeed safe and effective.
Digitalis is a difficult medication to prescribe because it has what is termed a “narrow therapeutic window.” That means that the dose works well at a certain level, but not if it’s dosed too low, and it is toxic if dosed too high. And because individuals metabolize digitalis differently, blood levels have to monitored regularly to avoid disastrous poisoning.
Certain relationships can sometimes feel like they have a narrow therapeutic window. In just the right amount, the friendship can flower beautifully and be a balm to isolation, anxiety, or depression. But if there is “too much of a good thing,” the relationship can sour, and worse, become toxic. We all have some people in our lives who we can take only in small doses.
Families can be like this at times. Throw in a family trauma, and the toxicity can ramp up. Maybe they trigger strong reactions in us because of prior injuries. Maybe their personalities are overwhelming to us. Maybe their views of life are counter to our outlook. We can more easily distance ourselves from poisonous friends, even letting the relationship go, but it’s harder with family.
In a family where a diagnosis of Alzheimer’s disease or another dementia is present, it’s especially difficult if there is a toxic member. The sister who lives out of town and doesn’t believe there is anything wrong with Dad. The nephew who takes advantage of his aunt who is living with dementia. The step-sister who insists that her father should be taken care of in a certain way but is unwilling to do it herself. The brother-in-law who leaves his ailing wife to her own devices for hours at a time.
Though we may see some people as poisonous, they are still a creation of God. If there is more toxin than beauty, we do need to limit our exposure, but we would do well to remember that beauty is still there, the god-spark within each being.